


To (m)end Dean Winchester

by TheBoxedStuffDoesntGetBetterWithAge



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10.09 Coda, M/M, Some Sexy Time, if you can handle the words cock and dick you'll be fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:13:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBoxedStuffDoesntGetBetterWithAge/pseuds/TheBoxedStuffDoesntGetBetterWithAge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of 10x09 everyone returns to the bunker for the night and after a long and excruciating shower Dean goes looking for Cas, because they really need to talk.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>A post 10x09 coda that was practically written short after the episode aired, but then I forgot about it and only found it again today. Now, I have watched 10x10 already, but I've just tweaked this a little bit and left it basically the same (episode 10 is in no way reflected in this work). Hope you enjoy!</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Cas..."

Dean pushed the door to one of the bunker's rooms slightly to allow himself a look inside. Cas was sitting on the side of the bed, leaning over a very much asleep Claire. His vessel's daughter. A kid, no older than 17. Boy, this world sure didn't pick its victims. The angel was completely absorbed in the girl's peaceful features, so Dean pressed forward and touched his upper arm gingerly,

"Cas."

The other figure then turned its head slightly to the side and motioned with an index finger to keep quiet. Dean gave a half-nod to confirm. He sat down next to his friend on the edge of the bed, allowing a few inches of space between their bodies, then leaned in next to Cas's ear,

"Can we talk, Cas?" His breath hitched. "I need us to talk. ... Please."

Cas sighed. He turned his head slightly again, which brought their lips unbearably close and whispered, 

"I won't leave her."

Dean retracted a bit to process this information. The bunker was the safest place possible and no one knew that better than Cas. Yet, he was having trouble leaving Claire alone out of fear she might need him when she woke up and possibly dreading not being there to tend to her every need. It was not a thing of necessity; it was a thing of comfort. How very human of the angel. Dean carefully put his hand on the angel's hip.

"Could we… I mean, can we talk here?," he asked, then nodded towards the sleeping beauty. "She seems pretty out of it."

Now it was Cas's turn to half-nod. He scooted a bit closer to Dean and shifted so that he was facing straight forward, hands folded in his lap. Dean was now sitting to his side, one of his hands lying on the bed between them.

"I'm so sorry Cas. I didn't… I didn't mean to…"

Cas was so damn tired. So tired of this. He eased his head onto Dean's shoulder. The hunter gave the top of the angel's head a confused look, but eventually accepted the gesture looking only slightly afronted. Cas kept his eyes peered to the front and responded,

"Dean, it's not you. It's the mark. _It_ is making you do terrible things," Cas's eyes shot down to Dean's branded forearm, " _You_ could never do anything like that." Then his eyes moved up to Dean’s face, but the hunter was adamantly staring down the floor.

"How do you know that, Cas? I don't. The Mark is… It's not like this thing came with an instruction manual,” he rubbed the scarred symbol with his thumb. “For what we know it could be my darkness that's fuelling it and…"

" **No.** "

Cas's hand shot up to grip at Dean's damned forearm,

" _No_ , Dean."

Their eyes met for a brief moment, before Dean looked away.

"You don't even want to consider it, Cas. And neither does Sammy. Christ, he's still trying to convince himself that I _had_ to go psycho on that room back there." He looked back up again, making sure Cas was hearing this, like, really hearing this. "But the difference between you and him is, he could never… And _you_ … You'd just have to… You know. Just let the angel side take over."

" ** _Dean…_** "

OK, that was a growl. The grip on his hand tightened and a moment later they were standing in Dean's room.

"Cas…"

Castiel pushed Dean against the wall at the back of the room with a thud and was currently staring him down like a burger in the time of Famine. In that moment a sound came in from the hallway.

"Dean?"

It was Sammy and his footsteps were nearing down the hallway.

"Your brother and I are settling some matters right now, Sam. Give us a few moments," Cas basically barked out and then he waved his palm abruptly and the door to Dean's room shut closed with a loud bang.

"Dean, everything OK in there?" Sammy's muffled voice came seeping into the room. Dean looked at Cas. He deserved this. Cas was probably gonna end it once and forever and Chuck help him, if he was gonna let Sam meddle with it. He was ready to clock out.

"Yeah, Sam. I’ll come find you later, OK. When we're done here."

Well, that was a lie. But Sam said OK and walked away, which was good enough. Dean suddenly realised he was locked alone in his room with Cas and the other man's hand was basically crushing his neck. This was no time to question lying to his brother. There were more pressing matters at hand. Or pressing hands at neck. Whatever.

"Cas, just do it, please…"

That seemed to snap Cas out of something. He let go of Dean's neck, still crowding him, and looked into the hunter’s eyes.

"Do _what_ , Dean? What is it you think I am doing?"

Dean stuttered. He was making him spell it out, huh. Well, fair enough.

"End me. Smite me, knife me, choke me. You know. Gank me."

Cas took a small step back, which made Dean sag against the wall like a bag full of straw.

"Dean…"

The hunter looked so determined and so ready to die. He was convinced there was nothing he had to live for. Yet he was Castiel's greatest masterpiece. Cas himself was having trouble justifying his own existence lately. In fact he was ready to stop being at any given moment and the only reason he was OK with that was the knowledge he did one great thing during his long and weary time. He saved and reassembled the righteous man. The man who was everything he had hoped for. The man who proved the category insufficient on numerous counts and who was now bearing the most dreadful mark of all, but was somehow still able to let his soul shine bright through the tiniest cracks. To end Dean Winchester would be to end the only part of Cas that mattered. Did this infuriatingly self-deprecating man truly have not a glimmer of an inkling about this?

The angel was staring Dean down now and the hunter had trouble keeping himself upright, so when he reached out for both of Cas's arms to steady himself, that little tug forward right there, that was all it took for the angel to settle on conveying everything he wanted to say with an utterly human gesture. He inched forward a bit further and pressed his lips to the wide-eyed hunter's ones with a big sigh of relief. On first contact Dean's arms shot half way up in surprise and he went completely rigid, but then he felt it. He felt the soothing harmony of something like those hippy wind chimes ringing through his body in light waves of a gentle breeze and he felt the warmth of the angel’s dying grace, he felt the golden speckles of an all-consuming love and… Felt utterly undeserving. He pushed Cas backwards,

"Cas don't, we can't, I…"

But Cas wasn't backing down. He did give Dean space to make his own choice and said what needed to be said,

"Dean Winchester, you will never die by my hand. Many have tried to make it happen and failed. Granted, as in many things also in this, you have the greatest chance of success in swaying my actions. But here, even you are powerless. There are only two things you can't convince me to do, Dean. One is to end you," he lifted a hand to Dean's forehead, then slowly lowered it to cradle his cheek, "and the other is to stop caring for you."

The hand was a question. Cas was asking Dean to accept this and to allow him in. How did they come to this, Dean wondered for a sec, but shot that train of thought down right there and then, because truth be told, he knew they were always headed here, he had always known they would end up at a precipice like this someday and he has always known what he'd do, when the moment arrived.

"OK, Cas. Yeah. I'm saying yes."

Though he stuttered, Dean's eyes were confident end resolute. There was a moment of nothingness, like time stopping and then all of the sudden everything came galloping forward with a mind crushing pace. They were kissing shyly, then boldly, than messily. Their tongues were exchanging visits to each other’s mouths and hands were mapping out points of interest under the clothes covering opposing bodies. Dean was still pinned between Cas and the wall, but his hands were brilliantly free. So, soon enough the trench coat was lying on the dresser, Cas's jacket was shading the night lamp, his shirt and undershirt lay crumpled on the floor, and, man, did Dean love kissing inches of skin under those layers of clothing.

Cas's approach was apparently somewhat more to-the-point. His hands, before tightly tangled in Dean's short bristles, skipped the whole expanse of Dean's upper body and shot straight to his belt. He was already doing his fair share of glorious grinding, so Dean was all hell yes to that move. The belt was off in a second and then the zipper sound and Cas's hand was on Dean's dick stroking through the fabric of his underwear. The groan Cas let out was exactly what Dean sounded like in his own head at that classy move. Cas didn’t really hesitate long. He dropped down to his knees and started mouthing the thickness under the dark blue fabric of Dean's boxers.

"Hnnnnnng, Cas..."

There was an amused huff from downstairs (why don’t you just blow me Cas?!) and then Cas was hooking his fingers into the waistband of Dean's drawers and pulling them down excruciatingly slow. As soon as the edge of the pants revealed the tip of Dean's flushing cock, Cas was all business, drawing slow licks over it and pressing gentle kisses to the slit like there's no tomorrow. Oh, yeah, that angel was a tease! Finally having fully divested Dean of his boxers, Cas started pressing kisses all over Dean's groin, diving his nose into his short and curlies with sounds of pleasure that were making Dean's head go boom. And just when his hand shot into the angel's hair to pull him up, 'cause he couldn't take it anymore, Cas screamed an internal banzai and sucked Dean's length down like it was something he does all day every day (of course, Dean!).

Dean freaking yelped. He. Yelped. And thanks to the insistent bobbing of Cas's suculent heat the next second he was mewling then moaning then squealing. His fingers were going from tight to tighter in Cas's hair and apparently so were the balls in his sack. In fact, he was pretty sure there were only seconds separating him from blowing his load down Cas's virgin throat and somehow, although he very much enjoyed that idea, he kind of wanted to have that pretty face at eye level when all those waves of pleasure come tumbling down, a hey. He pulled at Cas's hair a bit,

"Cas. Buddy, I need you up here."

Cas looked up at Dean with those revering baby blues and something inside Dean snapped. When sense came back to him, he was inches away from Cas's face now coated with his very own milky white jizz that the angel was slowly licking off of all the places he could reach. Cas was a freaking porn star and Dean was gonna die from sex. Thank you, Jesus! Or, you know, whomever. He started helping Cas in cleaning his face up, hunting the angel's tongue with his own across his pink cheeks and around his swollen lips. He settled them on the bed and finally undid Cas's belt and then the buttons of his trousers. He slipped a hand down Cas's undies and found there was a satisfying present hidden in there just for him, hard and throbbing and wet as fuck.

"Ohhhhhhhh," they chanted in unison as Dean started stroking his angel's dick with a steady pace, smelling and tasting himself all over his partner, cleaning the last bit of his seed from his face. Cas was beginning to squirm jerkily under his hand and Dean was going crazy with the need to drink down his lover, the way he just sucked himself off of the other's skin.

"Cas, need to see, wanna taste, please," Dean mumbled as he scooted down lower, not loosening his grip or faltering in his pace, and using his other hand brought Cas's pants over his hips to expose the glorious angel rod. Fuck, he was so done for. His mouth was on that dick sooner than he could say pie and it was all it took to tip Cas over that spiky edge of pleasure. The angel went stiff as a board and his hands clenched in Dean's hair, while he was having the time of his life guzzling down every last drop of Cas he was so generously awarded. Holy fuck, he tasted like ginger! Dean didn't even know he liked ginger…

A few seconds more and Cas sagged back on the bed like a bag of bones. Dean rested his head on his groin, enjoying the scent of the other male and shocking himself with just how gay he's managed to become with a flick of a switch. They were lying like that for a while when reality came rushing back with a strong bitter tang. Dean raised his arm. The mark was still there. Of course it was, why would he even think this changed anything.

"We'll find a way to get rid of it, Dean. I'll find a way," Cas said threading the fingers of his right hand through Dean's hair. Dean simply lifted his head a bit higher to Cas's stomach and whispered, "I know, Cas. I believe you."

But how often did that result in a good thing?

A sudden flash and they were back fully clothed on Claire’s bed, Dean sitting behind Cas and Cas leaning back against Dean's chest. Dean's hand was resting in Cas's lap and the angel's fingers were gently caressing the wretched mark. Things were far from OK. But they were not giving up just yet.

Keeping true to the old Winchester way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not all peachy keen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after a terrible fight with one of my closest friends. We're still not 100 % OK and I'm not sure we ever will be again, but I completely forgot about this and kinda like it, so I'm posting. I'm not sure, if I'm supposed to add any trigger warnings (dubious consent maybe?), so please tell me in comments if they are needed.  
> Also, this leaves the story in a not happy place, so I really want to continue, but I can't promise anything - if it comes, it comes and if not, well...  
> Also, I appologise, but I seem to have a thing for Cas pinning Dean to walls and stuff. I'm sorry it's such a repeating image. But. I can't seem to tire of it.  
> Also (OK, this is the 3rd one already =)), I'm posting this kind of in a haste (I have guests coming over), so I'll have to check for bigger mistakes later. I hope I don't drive anyone mad with my grammor till then.

Dean woke up the next morning alone and extremely well rested in his own bed. His stomach was growling and – was this right? – he felt kind of...happy? Yep, he was pretty sure that's what it was. Horrible images of blood soaked walls came rushing back to him, quickening his pulse and apparently making him feel hornier than ever. He palmed his dick through the blanket spread over him, enjoying the sting of something sharp (was it a knife?) pressing into his back. He slowly removed the cover and started stroking his groin hard and fast. When his dick started painting a warm pre-cum stain on his underpants, he pushed those down too and grabbed himself firmly, pressing his dick downwards and letting it spring back up a couple of times. He allowed himself a few slow strokes and then started violently fucking his right fist with everything he had in him. The dry skin moving through his equally dry hand created a sweet painful sensation, the sharper the push of his hips, the sharper the pain. He was slowly nearing the edge when all of the sudden he was surprised by a flash of blue eyes bringing him over the brink and when spurts of cum started coating his stomach and hand he could swear he felt the distinct scent of ginger filling his senses. OK, that was weird - he didn't even like ginger. Still, nothing better than a rough jerk off session in the morning. Score of the day: Dean Winchester 1, the world 0. Watch out, world!

He went and grabbed a quick hot shower and then headed for the war room. This Mark thing still needed to go. He walked up on Sam from behind and spooked his brother like the big baby he was.

»Porn? « he asked, knowing full well that was not porn Sammy was researching. His brother huffed in false acknowledgement than fired back:

»Had a good talk with Cas last night?« Oh, yeah that was a pure »I'm totally on to you« smirk right there.

Dean paused for a second, trying to make some sense of the uttered words and the idiotic expression, but having no success, he ventured:

»It's not cool to be having wet dreams about your brother and an angel of the lord, Samantha.«

»Jesus, Dean, relax. I was just trying to check everything was alright. Since you didn't come talk to me at all yesterday.«

»Whatever. Mind your own business, bitch.«

He turned to walk away, but then faced Sam again,

»Where are Squinty and Tiny McFly, anyway?«

Sam let out a huh then answered:

»They're gone, Dean. And all their things are gone, too. I didn't actually get a chance to speak to Cas, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with protecting Claire from stuff like what happened yesterday.« He looked constipated. »Actually I was hoping you'd have some more info on their situation.«

»Sorry to disappoint ya then. No info whatsoever. Kind of think that was the point,« he finished off, then continued his steady walk to the library. He stopped behind the door, trying to make sense of what Sam had just told him, but nothing at all was coming to him. And then his phone rang. He came back to and fished around his pocket for his cell. It was Cas.

»Yeah?«

»Dean.«

»Yup. Still my number, Cas. What's up?«

»I just wanted to let you know this has nothing to do with yesterday evening.«

»OK… You might need to throw in some more details there, Ezra Pound. Nothing to do with what about yesterday evening?«

»Our… Exchange. Mutual consolation. Intimacy.«

»Woah, now you're just throwing random words at me, Cas, and there's no way I can follow. Intimacy?«

»Perhaps you are right, Dean. It was more of an impulsive easement of our carnal desires. Still…«

»What the hell are you on about, angel? I killed a room full of douchebags yesterday then I came home, had a shower and zoned out. Now, if you're talking about this morning… I don't really mind you getting your rocks off by watching me play with myself, but I sure as hell don't want to hear about it.«

»Dean? That's your entire memory of yesterday evening? You don’t remember seeking me out in Claire's room?«

»Didn't have it in me to even try, angel boy. Also, since it's pretty obvious you're not planning on killing me, it might be better you just stayed away. Braid your precious baby's hair and whatnot. I'll handle my own shit as best I know how. And if I happen to fail, at least it's gonna be on me and not on some poor sucker angel who can't even tell dreams from reality.«

»D…«

Dean ended the call and started browsing through the books in the library. If this Mark of Cain thing had a cure, he's gonna have to find it by himself. Moose and Feathers were nothing more than obstacles holding him back.

 

*****

 

New Message – From: Cas; 12/03/14 at 14:31

"Dean, we need to talk. Call back when possible."

 

New Message – From: Cas; 12/03/14 at 14:43

"Claire is gone. I need your help finding her."

 

New Message – From: Cas; 12/04/14 at 17:56

"Settled things with Claire. Am alone now."

 

New Message – From: Cas; 12/24/14 at 23:59

"Merry Christmas, Dean. I miss you. =’("

 

New Message – From: Cas; 01/01/15 at 24:03

"Happy New Year, Dean. May it be better than the last."

 

New Message – From: Cas; 01/24/15 at 6:06

"Happy Birthday, Dean. At exactly this time 36 years ago you drew your very first breath."

 

New Message – From: Cas; 03/20/15 at 11:08

"Got a new lead. Still trying to help."

 

New Message – From: Cas; 03/26/15 at 12:01

"It seems Cain is killing again. I'm on his trail."

 

New Message – From: Cas; 03/28/15 at 15:55

"On my way to the bunker. Not good news."

 

*****

 

Cain is dead and he feels empty. Giving the blade to Cas was more about pissing Crowley off than about saving the two other Stooges. Still, it's done now and he's so fucking tired. He feels the fabric of his everything-is-fine-Sam mask crack, which means that he needs to get out of the room pronto. Great, now Cas is there too, looking all doe eyed and proud. I did not do it for you, you stupid angel, I did it for me. Yup, definitely time to get out of there.

»Well, I'm gonna go sleep for about four days now,« he said getting up, then patted the ridiculous angel four times on the shoulder (why the hell did he do that again??) and got out of there as quick as he could. Going down the hall he heard a distinct »Dean is in trouble« from Sam and as he was nearing the door to his room the sound of familiar footsteps following him were already filling the hallway. He stopped in his tracks and sure enough Cas's figure appeared from around the corner.

He shot a disdainful look at the angel, but didn’t utter a single word.

»I need to talk to you, Dean,« Cas demanded firmly as he continued on his path towards him.

»I think I made it pretty clear that I'm tired. I'm not really in the mood for company right now, Cas.«

He opened the door and squeezed himself inside the room already reaching for the doorknob, when he felt a tight grip on his wrist. He tried to push back, but Cas had a stronger momentum, so before he realized fully what was happening, they were both in his room, doors closed, and Cas's grip still firm on Dean's wrist.

»So, that's what you came here to do? Hold hands? I hate to break it to you, Cas, but you don't really do it for me at all.«

Cas was meaning full well to separate from Dean and have a normal civilized conversation, but something about Dean's statement made him crowd the other man even closer against the door.

»I distinctly remember doing it for you not so long ago, Dean. And I'd very much like to jog your faulty memory, if you'll let me.«

Dean felt a rush of adrenaline flow through his veins at Cas's demanding tone and though he had every intention of stopping Cas from doing whatever he was planning to do, he found himself wavering for just a second or two. Time enough for Cas to press two fingers lightly to his forehead.

_An image of him and Cas on his bed gripping each other like lifelines. Cas bringing him off like a pro, while he freaking begged for it, then going down on the angel like some experienced cockslut and milking him dry, the distinct taste of ginger filling his mouth._

Dean hated ginger! Snapping out of the horrible replay he pushed Cas away and ran to the can. He felt a spinning pressure flooding his head reverberating from his stomach, and a moment later he was puking his guts out in strong bursts of lava. When his insides finally settled he rested his forehead on the cold surface of the ceramic toilet seat as hot tears disobediently soaked his puke-sprinkled cheeks.

»You… You used me… You made me… You…«

Cas stepped up behind him lowering a hand to Dean's shoulder.

»Dean. It was an act of love. We both… At the time we both wanted it.«

»NO! I could never want something like that from you. Look at you. All weak and damaged and useless. Failing at every single thing you try. Following Sam and me like a lost dog, or better yet a blood sucking flee, thirsty for attention. Just because you’re not capable of achieving anything on your own. I’ve got nothing against whores, Castiel. But even I have my standards.«

»Everything I do is for you and your brother. I was under the impression that we were a team. That there was some sort of reciprocity here. Dean, I would never impose myself on you like that…«

»What do you call what you just showed me, Cas? There's no way I wanted that. No way in hell. And I don't think this whole Team Third Wheel thing is working out. You go find your own messes to fix and leave me and Sammy making our own way through this horror show your Dad calls life. And please, never mention a word of what you just showed me to me again. Just. Go.«

Cas stood there staring at him like a goat stares into a newly painted door. He was turning the kicked puppy look up to max, but Dean was just getting more and more pissed off at that. He was already starting to turn his back on Dean when all of the sudden back they flew up against the door again.

»I. Won't. Be. Disposed. Of. Like. A. Used. Handkerchief. Not by you, Dean Winchester. Not after everything I've done for you. You screamed my name when I was holding you and you were willing and begging for it. I should have made a claim on you when I had my chance, make you bear the knowledge we've crossed that line for the rest of your existence. The only reason I did not do that was because I felt we touched something beautiful that is yet to find its dawn. That the time was wrong, but the path was right. I wanted to hold back, I knew I should have, but you have always been my biggest weakness." He hesitated but for a second, then went on with affirmed resolution, "Thank you for showing me your true face, Dean. I ignored the shadow cast over your soul as a temporary distortion caused by the Mark, but I see now that the damage is real and damning. Know that I'll be watching your every move from afar and should our paths cross again I have no more hesitation in killing you. After this little display I grow convinced the man I admired is no longer there and the abomination I face now I will end most willingly.«

»Cas…« Dean started. It was as much a thank you as a plea for immediate service. But Castiel was already gone. And his room back to just an empty cell again. Then the silence was broken by a knock on the door.

»Dean? Is everything alright?«

»Yeah, Sam. Just venting. I'll come find you later, OK. After I've rested for a while.«

Sam rolled his eyes and smiled at his quaint big brother. He was pretty sure there was an angel locked in the room with him and that they were doing whatever they did when they were alone together like this. Sam didn't really need to know the extent of it. What mattered was that Dean had some solace and that there was a good handful of people that would never ever give up on him.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what to say here, since this fic just sort of came to me, including the sexy times and I had little to no control over it. I do want to mention that the use of the phrasing 'angel rod' is entirely intentional and originates from a post on tumblr about turn offs in fanfiction writing, in which 'rod' was listed as a huge no-no. Back then and now I'm inclined to agree, but I will always solemnly defend its use when paired with the adjective angel. At the time I believe my exact phrasing was 'divine angel rod', but in this fic glorious seemed to work better. Glory to Rod!  
> This is pointless, enjoy your day!


End file.
